


The first and the last time

by rafaholic



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Fedal - Freeform, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 06:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaholic/pseuds/rafaholic
Summary: Roger retires. How will Rafa react?





	The first and the last time

**Author's Note:**

> I was very sad and I needed to write something which could mirror my feelings. Sorry if this makes you sad. Hope you like it anyway. ❤️

November 2020

NITTO ATP FINALS  
Final Federer-Nadal 7-5 / 3-6 / 4-6

Roger didn't know at what exact time in the match , but there had been a moment, a definite second in which he had understood he wouldn't win.  
Just an instant and he knew it was over.  
His opponent seemed not to know fatigue and after a difficult start he had taken control of the match.  
One instant and a perfect left-handed forehand had slid to his right, landing on the far line.  
Just an instant and Rafa was falling backwards, arms outstretched and tears streaming down his face.  
His first success at the ATP Finals.  
As he walked towards the net waiting for his opponent to reach him, Roger could not feel as sad as he should have.  
He would have liked to win, of course, always.  
But he knew pretty well that Rafa wanted it even more.  
And after all he was happy too that a player like him had not finished his career without ever holding that trophy in his hands.  
Or without biting it, in the case of Rafa.  
The thought made him smile and distracted him for a moment from noticing that Rafa was now before him.  
The Spaniard held out his hand and headed for the usual one-armed hug but Roger surprised him, squeezing both arms around his neck.  
If that had to be the last time, it was at least appropriate that it was concluded by a real hug.  
The thought, just for a moment, was unbearable and Roger squeezed Rafa a little more.  
When the hug ended, Rafa had a sweet look but the expression of someone who had not fully understood the meaning of that unusual, albeit welcomed, gesture.  
Roger looked down and shook the referee's hand.  
While the crew was setting up the stage for the awards, Roger sat all the time, eyes fixed on Rafa's bench.  
The Spaniard seemed the happiest person in the world. His famous smile didn't leave his lips for even a minute and Roger allowed himself to think that that was enough reason not to be too sad about the defeat.  
Rafa had always had this power over him. Although the happiness of one of them often depended on the defeat of the other, Roger was able to accept sadness more easily and quickly, if on the other side of the net there was Rafa. This time it wasn’t different. Except for his decision.

For a moment Roger wondered if the news may ruin Rafa's mood, if it would make that wonderful smile disappear. He tried to think that no, that would not have been the case. On the other hand it was in the air, at 38 it was almost a forced decision.  
Probably Rafa was expecting it as well.  
The flow of his thoughts was interrupted by the voice of the speaker calling him on stage.  
Roger joined the tournament organizers who handed him the runner up plate.  
When it was the champion's turn the whole stadium exploded in a roar of applause and in screams of joy. Rafa raised the trophy to the sky and Roger felt his heart tighten as he thought of all the times that scene had been repeated before his eyes, for more than fifteen years.  
Then the speaker invited him to take the microphone for the usual speech and the Swiss took a deep breath.  
The time had come.

"Good evening to everyone. I will try to be very quick because this is not my moment. I want to thank you all, you have been fantastic. I wish I could tell you as usual "see you next year" but I can’t. "

At that point the audience suddenly became silent. Rafa who until then had never stopped smiling, became serious.

"I can’t because this was my last match. From tomorrow on, I will be officially a former player. "

He paused to prevent the emotion from once again taking over him. Then he took a deep breath and continued.

"I've decided it's enough. I am happy with everything I have achieved and I have no regrets. I want to enjoy my children and my family. It's time to put them first. They deserve a normal life and that's why I decided to withdraw from tennis but also from every public appearance.”

An unreal silence now reigned over the stands.  
No one had the courage to say a single word.  
Each one looked at his own neighbor, shaking his head, covering his mouth with his hands, widening his eyes in disbelief.

"Let me thank all the sponsors and tournament organizers who treat us every year in the best possible way. Thanks to my team and my family. Thanks guys, without you nothing I ever achieved would have been possible. And finally, of course, I want to say congratulations and thanks to my rival and long-time friend. Rafa, you were incredible tonight. You deserved to win, no doubt. I wish you all the best for the rest of your career and thank you for ... oh God, Rafa .. "

Roger stopped immediately, as soon as, for the first time since the beginning of the speech, he looked in the direction of the Spaniard.  
Rafa's face was completely wet with tears, and his shoulders were shaken by violent sobs.  
The Swiss immediately left the microphone and ran towards him, who almost without realizing it, threw his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Both the public and the organizers watched the scene with surprised but understanding eyes.  
The news caught everyone by surprise and it was no wonder that the biggest rival Roger had had in his career was particularly struck by the news.

With difficulty Rafa managed to regain control of himself and even to make a brief speech as a winner. He said nothing, just thanked someone quickly, as if he didn't care. As if he had not won the Finals for the first time. As if he had not spent an entire career chasing that specific victory.  
He had won, but he felt worse than if he had lost.  
He escaped to the locker room immediately after concluding his speech.

After a few minutes, Roger entered the locker room with his plate in one hand and Rafa's trophy in the other.

"Hey, champ. I think you forgot something on the court”, he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Rafa was sitting on the bench and looked up only a few inches.  
Roger put the trophies on the ground, knelt down and rested his arms on the sides of Rafa's legs, trying to look him in the eyes.

"Raf, it's okay. Please don't do this. You should be celebrating now. "

Rafa sighed.

"I know. But I don't feel like I won. At all."

Roger knew this would not be a simple news for Rafa to accept. But surely he never imagined that the Spaniard could react that badly.  
He was living it worse than himself.

"Hey ... you knew that sooner or later ...."

"Yes. Yes, I know. I just can't think of a career without you. "

"Of a life without you”, he wanted to say but he didn’t.

Roger wiped a tear from him and placed both hands on Rafa's knees. Rafa rested his forehead against Roger’s.

"It just means that you will have one less opponent on your path."

In his head it sounded like a joke, a phrase thrown in there to lighten the atmosphere. But Rafa immediately stiffened and broke contact between their foreheads, frowning.

"Do you really think so low of me?"

"I was joking, Rafa ..."

"Do you think it's time to joke?"

"What the hell, Rafa, I'm not dying! And you can't really think it's harder for you than me! You can't think ... you can't presume to think that this is about you, not that much! "

It took only a second for Roger to repent of the words spoken. If in all those years he had learned to know Rafa at least a little, he knew that that was the worst way to deal with the situation.  
Yet he had failed to restrain himself. The situation had become heavier than he could bear.  
The Spaniard's face suddenly changed and Roger knew very well that it was just the first brick of the pride wall that Rafa was building right in front of his eyes.

"You know what? You are right. I have no right on you or your choices. I have no right to be so sick. Sorry if I ruined your big moment with my stupid emotions”, he said ironically.  
Then he jumped up and closed the locker room door behind him violently, leaving behind a sad Roger Federer.

*

Only a few hours later, in a hotel room like many others, Rafa thought of every word he and Roger had spoken. He thought back to every moment of that day. To the immense happiness for the victory that had turned into deep sadness and melancholy within a few minutes.  
He thought back over the last fifteen years.  
He realized that from that moment on everything would change. From that moment on he would have been alone, without his rival, friend, love never expressed in words but at the same time tacitly known. They always knew.  
The thought that that day’s had been their last made him shiver.  
But it was the unbearable thought that the last memory Roger would have of him would have been their argument that pushed Rafa to put pride aside and send a simple text message.

"Are you in the hotel?"

The answer came after just a few moments.

“Yes”

"Can I come?”

In response, Rafa received only a three-digit number. Roger's room number.

The Swiss had not even had time to put the phone in his pocket after sending the message, cause Rafa was already knocking on his door.  
Roger couldn't help but smile.  
He opened the door and let Rafa in.

"Hey Raf ..."

"Roger, I'm sorry. You're right, you were right, I didn't get any right. I'm sorry, I didn't want to react like this but ... I was afraid. I panicked. I thought about the tour without you and ... Roger I know that your family needs you, that's right, it's just that I don't know how this world could even work without you and now I don't know ... "

"Raf, stop ... calm down, it's okay ..."

Roger put his hands on Rafa's shoulders, trying to calm him. Trying to make him understand that he had nothing to apologize for.

"No, it's not okay. I was wrong, I shouldn't have made things more difficult than they already were. Forgive me, I ... "

"No, you have to forgive me, Rafa. I treated you very bad.  
I reacted badly but I couldn't stand the idea that you were so bad because of me ... "

The Spaniard fell silent immediately. Here is the famous sensation. That electrical tension between them. That gravitational force that had driven them to look for each other for fifteen years, to stand by each other.  
Rafa hardly managed to divert the thought.

"I really don't know what it will be like from now on. Maybe I should retire as well "

"Don't you dare".

Roger looked at him intently.

"You are not over. You have to keep fighting here. You have to reach my records and overcome them”, he whispered a few inches away from him.

"Most of all, you have to prevent Novak from doing it," he added with a half smile.

Rafa relaxed for the first time since he had set foot in that room.

"I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll ever be as good as you.”

Roger then returned immediately serious.

"Rafa"

He took his face in his hands, to make sure the Spaniard looked him in the eye.

"You have always been as good as me. Maybe even better than me. Since our first match. When I saw you come onto the court that day in Miami, I knew you wouldn't be one of the many. Even before we started playing I already knew that ... "

He stopped, fearing perhaps he could say more than was right.

"Rafa, that day I found a rival and a friend. You have made life harder for me on the field but extremely easier outside. You don't have to think you’re less than me. Never. Soon you'll be the best ever in everyone's eyes, but you've been in my eyes for a long time. "

Rafa‘ eyes were wetting, but despite this he vigorously shook his head.

"I can exceed your records, I can win more matches, I can raise more trophies but I will never be like you. Roger, you have to understand, nobody is you. Nobody will ever be you ... "

The Spaniard began to cry again, bringing his hands to his face. The desperation with which he had uttered the last words convinced Roger that Rafa was no longer just talking about tennis.  
He said nothing, waited for the younger man to calm down but his heart was in turmoil.  
When Rafa looked up and wiped his tears, Roger felt a lump in his throat. A feeling that he could not explain.

"God, you couldn't be more beautiful even if you tried ... come here."

Rafa let Roger hold him in his strong arms, hiding his head in the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent deeply.  
That proximity also caused the last remaining barriers to collapse. If that was really the last time he could spend time with Roger, there was only one way it could go.  
Rafa slowly loosened the embrace and without thinking twice he placed a kiss on Roger's lips. It lasted a second, maybe less. The time to realize it and it was already over.  
Yet it had left them both breathless.  
Rafa didn't seem to be satisfied with that imperceptible contact and leaned in again.

"Rafa, no, we can't."

"I know.", said the Spaniard, but he approached again, stealing another kiss.  
This time it took a few moments longer, before Roger put a hand on his chest and pushed him away again.

"Rafa, we're married. Both."

"Yes I know."

One more kiss. Still a little longer than the previous one.

"We've been so careful for 15 years, Raf-"

The Spaniard was far too gone to be able to desist now. And when their lips met again it was as if 15 years of waiting had been paid off in a single moment.

"Raf ..", Roger interrupted again.  
Rafa stopped. He looked at him, waiting for him to continue talking.  
But this time the Swiss sighed, defeated.

"I am out of excuses ...", he smiled and it was him, this time, to head for the kiss.

After a few minutes what was a chaste kiss became more and more intense. Roger held Rafa's face in his hands, and he moaned softly.  
Suddenly, the idea that there could be even a single inch between them had become unacceptable.  
Roger started kissing Rafa's jaw, then his neck. The hands slipped under the Spaniard’s blue t-shirt and that simple contact made both’s desire grow, so much so that neither of them could now hold back fine moans of pleasure.  
Rafa's shirt soon ended up on the floor, followed by every other piece of fabric guilty of being an obstacle between their bodies.  
Rafa backed away to fall on the bed and Roger immediately followed him, hypnotized. Paying attention to his battered knees, he made their bodies adhere perfectly, which shuddered in unison when their erections came into contact.

"Raf ... my God ... you’re so beautiful"

Roger looked at Rafa as if he were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And maybe it was.  
He caressed him with his hands and eyes. He wished that night could never end. But he was perfectly aware that he had to enjoy every moment, because none of what was happening between them would ever happen again. The thought was unbearable and Roger stopped for a moment the exploration of Rafa's perfect body, only to bury his face in the crook of Rafa's neck. The Spaniard immediately noticed Roger's change and gently stroked his hair.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Roger shook his head no slowly and Rafa sighed.

"What's wrong? If you've changed your mind ... if you don't want to, I can ... "

"I never wanted something so much in my life”, he interrupted in a whisper.  
"That’s what’s wrong."

Rafa moved slightly, lying now on his elbow. He started kissing Roger again gently, caressing every part of his body he could reach.

"Everything is okay, mi amor.”

The Swiss let himself be carried away again by that inexplicable feeling, by those feelings that were stronger than reason, stronger than any logic.  
He returned every kiss as if his life depended on it. Every movement of Rafa on his body increased his desire, until it was impossible for him to wait any longer.

"Raf ... I need you."

Rafa kissed him gently.

"Yeah, me too"

Roger reluctantly broke away from him as much as he needed to reach out, open the nightstand drawer and take out a condom. He put it on quickly, anxious to feel all the sensations that would follow.

He lined up with Rafa's hole but before pushing in he bent over to kiss him again.  
When the kiss ended, Rafa held Roger near to him, putting a hand on his neck.

"The first and the last time," he whispered on his lips.

"The first and the last time," repeated Roger, finally starting to push in Rafa.

Both moaned.  
After a few moments, Roger began to move, slowly, without haste.  
Whenever he allowed himself to imagine such a situation (and God knows how many times he had imagined it) he had always thought that it would be something desperate and rough.  
But at that moment his body required him to savor every second of that moment so perfect, so secretly wanted and expected.  
Rafa, below him, kept his eyes closed and his head back. The half-open mouth and the heavy breathing. Roger's name repeated like a prayer.

Roger was drunk with that sight.  
He changed the angle slightly and Rafa let out a loud moan.

"Is it good?"

"It’s perfect"

The delicacy of the moment filled Roger's eyes with tears. If he hadn't been so excited he would have cried.

"Yes, Rogi, yes. That way. Don't stop, please. "  
Rafa clasped his hands around Roger's hips, guiding his movement to feel it even deeper.

"That’s so fucking amazing, Raf ..."

"Yeah ..."

Roger continued to thrust into him, but suddenly stopped.

"Wait ... wait ..."

Roger brought out his cock, causing a moan of disappointment from the Spaniard.

"Rog, why ..."

"I wouldn't have lasted much longer. I don't want it to end so soon. "

Rafa nodded. Then he spent a few minutes caressing Roger's hair, until the desire to have him inside was not bearable again.  
He started kissing his neck as he gently stroked Roger's cock, which was already turning hard again.  
When the Swiss started to moan, Rafa gently pushed him against the bed, sitting on his lap. After a couple of strokes, he lined up Roger's cock again in his hole and pressed his hips to feel it as deeply as possible.

“Oh God, Roger ..."

"Move. Rafa, please. Move. "

The Spaniard was happy to please his lover and started riding his cock. The mere sight of Rafa going up and down on him, his head back and his hands on his chest, whispering words in mallorquín, was almost enough for Roger to come. Then he closed his eyes to enjoy every sensation to the fullest and to make that magic last as long as possible.  
His hands chased Rafa's cock, hard and red against his belly.  
Roger began to stroke it but his hand was intercepted by Rafa's, who intertwined their fingers, never ceasing to move.

"No need to touch me. Going to come like this. Just from your cock. "

Listening to these words, the orgasm caught Roger strongly, and the Swiss came with a loud scream.  
Rafa kept move himself through it and came seconds later, chanting Roger's name and collapsing on the top of him, trying to catch his breath.

As soon as he had recovered enough, Rafa rose and pecked Roger's lips.

They stood side by side in silence for a time that seemed interminable.  
Then Roger wrapped his arm around Rafa's waist and pulled him closer to him.

"It had to happen sooner or later," he whispered, stroking his cheek.

"Yes"

"I honestly don't even know how I resisted you for 15 years," he added, smiling but serious.

"Neither do I."

Rafa squeezed Roger a little more, letting the Swiss's caresses lead him into the world of dreams.  
Roger knew, on the contrary, that he could not sleep that night. Not after such strong emotions.  
After a few minutes, Rafa's breathe became regular and Roger took a few moments to watch him sleep.  
His heart tightened at the thought of having only that night.  
As if he could guess his thoughts, Rafa moved slightly.

"You've been the love of my life, Roger", he whispered.

The Swiss thought he could die at that precise moment. He took Rafa in his arms, and held him close, wiping away the tears he could not stop.  
If Rafa was awake or if he had spoken those words unconsciously, Roger didn't know. But it wasn't important. He spent the next few hours stroking Rafa's hair and thinking back to all the moments when, before that evening, it could have happened but in the end never happened.  
He sighed deeply.

"Maybe in some other life, Raf ..."

*

The morning came too soon. The sound of the alarm had never been so unpleasant. Roger turned it off with a mechanical movement of his arm. Then he turned his attention to the man beside him. He never wanted to wake him, yet the night was over. And with it, that little parenthesis between them. Perfect and at the same time unrepeatable.  
Then he began to place delicate kisses on Rafa's bicep, and the Spaniard moved slightly and narrowed his eyes.  
As soon as he saw Roger, Rafa opened in the most beautiful of his smiles. Then the realization of the events of the previous night struck him and his expression changed.

"So ... it wasn’t a dream...”

The Swiss smiled and captured Rafa's lips in a long kiss.

"I have to go, no?”

Roger nodded sadly.

A few minutes later, Rafa had dressed and was ready to leave that room. He wasn't ready to leave Roger, but that, he thought, he would never have been.  
He approached the door but before opening it he took a step towards the Swiss, throwing his arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.  
Roger returned the squeeze with the same force.

"We'll meet again, won't we? This is not goodbye ... is it? "

"Sure, Rafa. I know it won’t be the same but ... being retired does not mean I will disappear from your life. "

"So it's not goodbye."

"It is not"

"It looks like it, though”

"I know..."

After a last hug, Rafa took courage and broke away from Roger's warm and welcoming body, opening the door to leave. This time for real.  
The Swiss called him once again, the last one.

"Rafa ..."

The Spaniard turned and in an instant Roger took his face in his hands and glued his lips to his, in a last wonderful kiss.  
After a few seconds, Roger broke away and with shining eyes he caressed Rafa's lips, just where his lips had been laid just moments before.

"Be happy, okay?."

The Spaniard just nodded and left.  
Roger closed the door and leaned his head on it.  
He sighed.

"You've been the love of my life too, Rafa."

**Author's Note:**

> I really want you to know, even if I’m a huge Rafan, that I’d never want Roger to retire, I love him as well! Please don’t think I wrote this to upset Roger fans! It’s just a story which was floating in my mind, and I wrote it cause I wanted it to be real. But, believe me, Roger’s retirement will affect me almost as much as Rafa’s. Sorry if this made you angry. 🥺


End file.
